


baby, you're so jelly

by kaorupecs



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Confession, Cafe dates, Fluff and Humor, Hinted Financial Issues, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaorupecs/pseuds/kaorupecs
Summary: Jesus. Yeah, Tori needed a break. He needed a break, and a snack, and a way to get past the YouTube block on his laptop, and a–“Iced half-caf single tall two percent vanilla bean frappuccino with extra whip and chocolate sauce?”
Relationships: Himemiya Touri/Shiratori Aira
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	baby, you're so jelly

The sun shone warmly against Tori’s skin, a golden hour glow cast onto his complexion; it was a surefire way to make the highlighter on his cheeks sparkle, and hopefully hid the harsh line Tori had accidentally drawn across his own face—where his bb cream ended and his actual skin began. Rather than risk looking like an ogre from using the color correction stick he had gotten from Hiyori-sama, Tori had instead used, like, fifty layers of concealer to hide the gross purple hue his under eyes had taken on.

A sigh escaped his mouth, his fist pressing up against his cheek in a way that was much less dainty than he would’ve liked. Tori pressed his body further into the wall of his windowside booth, eyes focused on his own reflection against the glass. At least the Tori in the window was cute—he always was when he was pouting. The jut of his lower lip was cut off, though, by the piles and piles of stupid financial requests Isara-senpai had dumped on him.

Tori leant back against the plush exterior of his booth, his vertebrae popping one right after the other as he did so. His legs kicked themselves forward, feet only barely scraping the floor. The hustle and bustle of this Café couldn’t be drowned out with the world’s most expensive headphones, let alone Tori’s airpods. 

Whatever. They needed to be charged anyways. 

_‘peachpods 🍑👼✨’ are now charging. (23%)’_

A blurb popped up on his Macbook, the brief notification casting his workspace in a lime green glow. That too was charging away, battery nearly drained from the usage it had received all day. With Isara-senpai a disaster when it came to communicating professionally, and Shinobu owning nothing but a clunky computer that restarted every fifteen minutes, Tori had also been shackled with the duty of sending emails.

It had taken way longer than it should have, Tori’s insistence on multitasking his inevitable downfall. Listening to regular music made it hard enough, but after a while even that could be tuned out. Instead, his own voice played through his headphones, Tori making notes whenever he noticed the practice-Tori was out of breath or tune. With every loop the song played, Tori had noticed more and more places that could be improved, which of course lead to more and more emails piling up in his inbox.

It didn’t matter now, however, self improvement and social courtesy were entry level bosses. To normies, they were the Koopalings to finances Bowser, although Tori considered those two to be pretty evenly matched. Yes, his yellow toad hid in his bubble whenever he and Sora played Super Mario Bros, yes, he’s needed over one hundred life resets, no, he hasn’t gotten any better in the hours they’ve spent playing together.

Urgh, maybe he should just dump these papers on Yuzuru’s bed and sneak off to Sora’s room to play with him. It’s been a while, and Tori would much rather be jumping over caterpillars in a poisonous swamp than be swamped by this much paperwork. Yuzuru would do it without complaint, Tori knows he would, but the thought of letting him do Tori’s job adds on more stress than it takes away.

He feels like one of those true crime shows Hajime likes to watch, like stones have been put in his stomach to assist his body in sinking to the mucky riverbed floor. No, Tori’s gotta do his own work if he wants to be an idol even a fraction as good as Eichi-sama. Despite his rounded cheeks and wide eyes, he’s _not_ a baby. Tori can do his own work, he has an example to set anyways.

He rolls his neck one last time before bending down, starting on the first form with renewed vigor. The gel pens he’s using are cheap, a birthday gift from Hajime, and the sound of half-dried tips scratching against the paper isn’t _pleasant_ , per se, but witnessing Isara-senpai’s frustration towards bright pink budget cuts will be.

Neck deep in budget plans, Tori felt more like a second year than ever before. Club names, requests, and absurdly high sums of money became more illegible, terms blurring further in spite of his determined squinting. It was only after he spent seven minutes deciphering the abhorrent handwriting of the Light Music Club’s form that Tori realized his own pen had been circling around itself, a bright purple spiral taking up the right hand corner of the page.

Jesus. Yeah, Tori needed a break. He needed a break, and a snack, and a way to get past the YouTube block on his laptop, _and_ a–

“Iced half-caf single tall two percent vanilla bean frappuccino with extra whip and chocolate sauce?”

...Well, yes. Exactly that, except for the fact that Tori hadn’t ordered a drink, and the baristas certainly wouldn’t give him one for free—he’s famous, but he's not _Eichi-sama_ —and Tori only knew one person who’d shell out that much money on a drink that wasn’t their own, let alone know other people’s orders.

“Aira,” Man, Tori really should have thought before he started speaking, because now his mind is completely blank. Really, though, Tori thought it was near impossible to react rationally to Aira. 

He was dressed nicely, for once, a much needed change, since his typical ratty hoodies and cheap slacks weren’t normally Pretty 5 material. The overalls he was wearing were nicely tailored, one of the straps undone, leaving half of the breast pocket to fall over itself, showing the well-done stitching on the interior. It also allowed more of the light pink, extra large knitted sweater to be seen. If Tori thought about it closely, he’d realize the color was identical to his own hair.

Tori chose not to think about it closely. 

“How’d you know my order?” Aira’s smile was sweet—overwhelmingly so, less like the biscuits Yuzuru were so fond of making, more like the results of the time Tori and Mitsuru had tried baking and accidentally tripled the sugar-to-everything-else ratio. It was enough to stun Tori into forgetting to protest Aira sliding into the bench across from his own, still smiling as he tapped Tori’s drink against his own.

“Oh, you know.” 

Tori didn’t know, actually. Instead of dwelling on it, he took a sip from his own drink. 

Staring down the barrel of whipped cream and chocolate drizzle only served to remind him how expensive this must have been. Sure, ALKALOID were on the up and up the last time Tori heard, but their profits were nowhere near as big as fine’s, or even Tori’s own inheritance. The last time they had worked together, Aira’s outfit was nothing new, the same one he had worn once a week the entirety of the summer, save for a thin zip-up hoodie thrown atop. Yeah, Aira should pool his finances towards himself, not to the guy prancing atop the Himemiya trust fund.

“Soo..” Tori’s lips popped off of the straw with a pop. His fingers toyed with the straw as he spoke, swirling around the cup. The whipped residue getting stuck to the thing wasn’t nearly as interesting as Tori made it seem, but Aira got weird about eye contact sometimes, and he wasn’t risking an impromptu apology session.

“How much did this cost you? I can venmo you in a sec.” His fingers were sticky from the straw, something Tori hadn’t noticed until he’d swiped his thumb to unlock his phone. His unit members’ faces stared back at him, his entire phone’s layout icy blue to match his wallpaper—a particularly regal shoot fine did for Harper’s Bazaar a few months back. 

Tori’s eyes didn’t leave his home screen, despite the _fascinating_ sputtering sounds coming from Aira’s side of the table. Wet coughing and the heavy thuds of a palm smacking the table soon followed, and truly, Tori was a saint for sparing Aira the embarrassment of being seen. 

“You don’t have to do that!!!” Aira spoke frantically, voice a hushed whisper. Oh, good, he was at least composed now. Tori glanced up, and were it not for the circumstances, the embarrassed flush spreading over Aira’s cheeks would have been pretty cute.

“I don’t!” Tori agreed. 

Aira sighed, relief palpable on his face.

“Buuuut~ I want to!” It was amazing how four simple words could evoke such a strong sense of dread. It was astonishing when one further took into account that Eichi-sama had done the same tactic. It was embarrassing that “But, I want to” caused more horror than “You all are fired.” 

“Nooooo!!” Aira had definitely learned his lesson, his hushed wails blending in seamlessly with the hustle and bustle of the café, standing out no more than the whistle of a coffee machine would.

“Do you hate me? Is that it? You hate me and want me dead?” His junior’s hands were clinging to his face, latte long forgotten as he pulled his arms down at an agonizingly slow rate. It was like Aira had decided to audition for Dramatica’s rendition of The Wizard of Oz, incredibly dramatic and utterly unnecessary. 

“What? No, where did you even get that? I swear, you’re so weird sometimes.” Tori stared at Aira’s posture, his body crumpled, the entirety of his face pressed against the table. It meant he couldn’t see Tori’s eye roll (sad), but it also meant he couldn't see Tori pick up his phone.

“That sounds like hatred.” Dejection was present in Aira’s voice, but he made no move to look up. Instead, he seemed content to become one with their table.

The passcode was Sakuma’s birthday (weird), the home screen was one of Tori’s own teaser photos for fine’s comeback (weirder), and his CashApp was hidden behind four entirely different folders (weirdest). 

“Annnd sending two thousand yen to Airabu...done! Now was that so hard?” 

Aira’s head appeared once more in Tori’s frame of vision, looking doubly as frazzled despite his moment of rest. There were indents from the edge of the table pressed red into his skin, his bangs mussed up and stuck to his face. His eyes were fairly wide, but now they were scarily so. 

“Wha–how–hey!! You can’t–”

“Hm? But I just did?” The digital receipt on Tori’s phone was clear as day, and he felt unusually smug as he slid Aira’s phone across their table.

“You–” Aira’s face was scrunched up, lips pressed together so tightly Tori doubted a pair of pliers could crack them open.

“You’re going to pay,” was what came next, significantly less intimidating than it was supposed to be. Staring at Aira, his arms crossed like a petulant child, really put Tori’s past stubbornness into perspective. Is this what Yuzuru had to deal with? 

“I already did!” Tori reminded him, all too cheerful about the scowl that made Aira’s nose twitch like an anxious rabbit’s.

“Not like that!” He groaned, head once again held in his hands. Aira’s palms pressed into his eyes, rubbing circle after circle until one paused, moving down so Aira’s green eye could lock onto Tori’s.

“You.” He began, his finger pointing at Tori, wrist extended as far out as it could go. Aira’s elbows were perched on the table, too—which, geez, awful manners, had he not learned any table etiquette?—

“I’m going to buy you dinner. A dinner that costs double–no, triple–no, _quadruple_ the cost of that coffee. You’re not allowed to pay me back, and if you try to I’ll make sure there’s always Student Council paperwork missing.”

“Aww, baby’s first blackmail~ Cute! But seriously, Aira, if you wanted to ask me out you could have just said so~”

Aira squawked, face reigniting all over again.

“I’m not–! Me?! No, no, I couldn’t–! Ask _you_?! I’m a worm, I’m a worm I couldn’t possibly ask you and _not_ be laughed at–!”

“But I’m not laughing?” Tori wishes he could say it was all an act, but the confused tilt to his head was all too real. For once he wasn’t irked by Aira’s self depreciative schtick. How gross.

“You’re not a worm, but if you were I’d like...feed you moss or something.”

“ _You can’t just say that with a straight face, you know–!!!_ ”

“Besides, what else are fancy dinners even for? Definitely not business meetings, ‘cuz Eichi-sama holds all of StarPro’s at McDonalds, and I’ve never offered to buy Sora or Mitsuru a cut of wagyu.”

Aira just stared, expression half-frozen onto his face. His mouth was dropped slightly open, perfectly still, partnered with his eyes held in a partial squint, cheek muscles contracting as he held the pose.

“You’re serious.”

“Yuzuru could pick us up, he has his license.”

More silence.

“Or, um, your Reimei guy could…?”

“ _Please_ don’t encourage Tattsun-senpai to drive. We already got Hiiro to swallow his keys once, and I don’t want to go through that agony again.” Aira moved then, settling his hands back over his eyes.

“So Yuzuru..?”

“If you–ack!–if you want to… I’d. Also. Like...that.” Aira’s fingers were held loosely open, his eyes peering through to look at Tori. 

Tori scoffed.

“Well, _duh_. Were you not getting that from the fact that _I’m_ the one planning _your_ idea?”

“Don’t tease me, you hate me…!” Aira whined, though with no café tables or hands to hide his face behind, the smile quirked onto his face was hard to miss.

“I already said that I didn’t!” Tori’s own arms flew into the air, sending some of the finance forms into the air. To hell with them, he was gonna have to redo all of them anyways. The basketball team was in need of cuter uniforms, or maybe something else that Tori hadn’t decided yet.

“Hatred, it’s hatred I’m telling you!” Aira’s face was a near-perfect imitation of his own. The cheater had definitely been studying his photoshoots, the final spread of Tori’s underwater mermaid shoot clear in his mind. How he could call himself a worm one moment and then tease one of his idols the next, Tori had no idea.

“Shush! Quit smiling at me like that and walk me back to the dorms!”

“What?! I can’t walk you back, surely your butler would be better at that than _me_ –!”

“Well I don’t want Yuzuru to do it! Don’t be dense, you asked me out, so _you_ get to walk me back!” 

Tori was already packing up, sliding papers into their designated color coded folders, then those folders into his shoulder bag. He reached for his pens, ready to pop them back into his pencil case, but fell short when his fingers skimmed the back of Aira’s hand instead.

Aira continued as if nothing had happened, picking up pen after pen to assist Tori in cleaning up. Well, if he was going to help, then Tori definitely wasn’t stopping him. He waited until there was one last pen on the table, ready to strike. As soon as Aira reached over so did he, flipping Aira’s hand so their palms were pressed together.

He threw the pen into his bag, uncaring that it was bound to get lost on its own. Skipping along to the sounds of Aira’s sputtering, Tori had much better things to care about. He had a date to plan, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> crazy how if you read the stories you get a more in depth understanding of the characters. anyways i did that and have now been hit with the ToriPification beam. title is from jelly by irene and seulgi, very fun song, very sweet, some nice aitori vibes
> 
> EDIT 3/7: “Aira sighed, Ok i want to describe the relief he’s feeling but idk how.” I HAD THIS LIKE THIS FOR TWO MONTHS AND NOT ONE OF U THOUGHT TO SAY STH?:$3$-&&4$3@2&4&2@ i am mortified actually mortified im sticking my head in the ground like an ostrich and never coming back up


End file.
